Muggle Studies
by Swooping Evil
Summary: Hermione, enlighten me, please. You are taking every subject possible. You have tonnes of homework and your bag cannot be lifted without putting a charm on it so why, in Merlin's name, are you taking Muggle Studies if you're a muggleborn?


This was written for the Golden Snitch forum's Tiggerific Times challenge using the prompts Crookshanks, Muggle Studies and Gryffindor. The story must be between 500-800 words.

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"So you're taking divination, ancient runes, arithmancy…"

"Honestly Ronald, why does it bother you so much? Professor McGonagall said I could do it so that is that!"

"But that doesn't make any sense, Hermione! It is physically impossible for you to be able to take all of those classes! You would have to be in three places at once every hour!"

Harry plodded down the steps of the boys' dormitory and entered the Gryffindor Common Room where Ron and Hermione were having an intense conversation. Bracing himself for the worst, Harry started walking up towards them, already tired of their bickering before he even knew what they were fighting about.

"Come on, Harry, tell her I'm right!" cried Ron, spotting Harry before Hermione.

"I –" started Harry, however, one look at Hermione's face stopped him in his tracks and he gulped. "I –"

"Oh forget it, Harry!" Hermione huffed and with a flick of her bushy hair she whirled around and stomped out of the portrait hole, nose held high in the air.

"Mental that one," Ron whispered conspiratorially to Harry as the portrait of the Fat Lady closed with a snap. Without waiting for a reply he tugged Harry's elbow, "Let's go have breakfast, we have a long day ahead of us."

Harry gave one look at Ron then at the portrait hole Hermione had just left before sighing and shrugging. He had learnt a long time ago not to get involved in Ron and Hermione's disagreements.

As they walked out of the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry didn't fail to notice Ron glowering at Crookshanks whilst covering the little lump made by Scabbers in his breast pocket (it had become a habit of his to not leave Scabbers in the Common Room 'unprotected'). Crookshanks gave an unhappy hiss back before strutting away, nose, or what was meant to be a nose, in the air quite like Hermione.

With a grunt, Ron scrambled through the hole and together, he and Harry walked towards the Great Hall. As they walked down the corridors Harry only half listened to Ron's whittle about Hermione being completely mad. He had heard enough of that over the past few years and admittedly he wasn't in the mood of talking to anybody. His scar had started to twinge a little and he had hardly slept at all thanks to Sirius Black whose dark presence was looming over Hogwarts like an unshakeable shadow.

Eating hurriedly and still only half listening to Ron, Harry stirred his porridge absent-mindedly and thought of the essay he had not finished which was due that very afternoon for McGonagall.

The day passed very quickly, Harry trying in vain to pay attention in Transfigurations and Hermione refusing to aid either Harry or Ron with their History of Magic notes, which made History of Magic more of a challenge. It was only at these times that Harry fully appreciated how much Hermione helped them at school. Goodness knows what would happen to him if she left the school, he thought shuddering at the very idea of it.

Now seven o'clock the trio walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room in complete silence, all three of them aware of how much homework they had to do that evening. However, it only took a few seconds for their silence to be broken by Ron who, apparently, had been thinking about Hermione's timetable all day.

"Hermione, enlighten me, please. You are taking every subject possible. You have tonnes of homework and your bag cannot be lifted without putting a charm on it so why, in Merlin's name, are you taking Muggle Studies if you're a muggleborn?" cried Ron jerking his arms upwards before throwing himself down on a chair opposite Hermione's, a look of pure bewilderment on his face.

His words were greeted with a deadly stare, which would have made McGonagall proud. Harry looked between his two friends: Hermione glaring at Ron and Ron looking back half amused half frightened. Not wanting to get skewered on the spot by Hermione as well, Harry scooped up his bag and homework, knowing he would fully regret this the following morning, and muttered a hasty goodnight before running up the steps to his dormitory two at a time.

Best leave it to them he thought as he got into his pyjamas and into bed acknowledging how cowardly his actions were. In his defence though, when Hermione was angry it was best not to get involved. A saying he would live up to until his dying day.


End file.
